The Beauty of Mistakes
by Loathing the Veil
Summary: Harry doesn't think he'll ever be with either of the two people he truly cares about. Luckily for him, Draco thinks so too. Rated M for moderate swearing and sexual content later on . SLASH. Dont read if u dnt like it. NOW BETA'D!
1. Chapter 1

Draco lay Lying writhing in his luxurious four-poster as he endured his self-inflicted, frustration-induced pain

Draco lay Lying writhing in his luxurious four-poster as he endured his self-inflicted, frustration-induced pain., He Draco could think only one thing: _Don't Be Stupid._

_Don't be stupid – what would your father think?_

_Don't be stupid – no one that friggin' fabulous could ever feel for you._

_Don't be stupid – you don't even swing that way._

But soon after, a nagging voice would whisper the deceivingly hopeful words: _But What If?_

_What if – he actually could feel for you?_

_What if – your father really is a human being and could maybe love you anyway?_

_And what if – you got over your stupid pride and started accepting who you are?_

Such conflicting thoughts made Draco force the blade deeper into his otherwise untarnished flesh. Lines of beautiful deep red glistened all over his back, chest, and pelvic region, filling him with a bitter pleasure.

He could remember a time when maiming his smooth perfect skin in an attempt to forget pain would seem a perfectly absurd concept. But that was so long ago. Prolonged and sincere periods of happiness were left behind in that far away time. The time before he had found himself underneath the infamous Harry Potter, panting, screaming, and barely thinking as he arched and writhed in the purest state of euphoria he had ever experienced.

* * *

It was midway through sixth year that Harry found himself unhappy. A strange and uncomfortable state of mind had settled itself upon him, making him think of certain people in certain ways that he certainly wouldn't have expected of himself.

Talking to the other guys in his dorm, he'd found out that it was perfectly normal for teenage boys to think about other teenage boys in ways that were normally reserved for teenage girls. This discovery put his mind at ease, and he brushed his feelings off, blaming raging teenage hormones. Until, that is, he realised that it wasn't the occasional out of the ordinary fantasy that we were talking about here.

No, this was a full-blown physical and emotional attraction to another boy. Two other boys, in fact.

His heart skipping a beat (and not in the good way. More in the way that your great Aunt Mildred's heart skipped a beat just before she kicked the bucket last summer. The unpleasant kind of beat-skipping. Yeah.) at this new revelation, Harry, being the brave Gryffindor that he was, decided to talk to Ron about it.

A lethal combination of Ron's stupidity and limited emotional range led to a less that reassuring conversation:

Late one night, Ron and Harry had been desperately trying to finish their overdue homework when Harry finally worked up the courage to bring it up.

"Ron?"

"Mm?" was the reply.

"You know how we were talking the other day in the dorm? About how we sometimes have daydreams or whatever about other guys instead of girls?" Harry asked, his heart thumping.

"Yeah what about it?" came the somewhat distracted reply.

Trying to remain nonchalant, Harry said, "Nothing really, I was just wondering if you or any of the other guys has ever thought that they might've…well…that they might've started to…" the nonchalant front was rapidly losing the battle. "…you know…started to actually _like_ another guy…"

Ron had taken it the wrong way, "Are you kidding? That's ridiculous! Do you really thing that if one of us _did_ bat for the other team we'd be mental enough to tell the other guys in our dorm? We'd get booted out for sure!" he said laughing.

He had thought Harry was joking or being purely hypothetical. So Harry forced a smile and said, "Yeah, pretty stupid. Just something that crossed my mind…"

Ron shook his slowly, amused, before stretching, yawning, and bidding Harry goodnight.

Harry sat alone in the common room for an hour and a half contemplating his situation. His previous conversation with Ron had not gone at all in the direction he'd planned, confirming his fear that if he were to tell Ron his true feelings about two certain someone's, he'd be ridiculed and shunned by his best friend.

The thought sent a shiver down Harry's spine and made his stomach feel as though it were made of concrete. Not an altogether pleasant end to the day.

Eventually deciding that that was enough thinking depressing thoughts for one day, Harry sent him self off to bed to endure yet another set of dreams plagued by his desires for his best friend and worst enemy: The very two people he'd never have a chance with.

* * *

Across the other side of the castle, a conversation of similar substance had taken place that very same evening in the Slytherin common room.

Draco and Pansy were relaxing alone on a soft leather couch, Pansy's head on Draco's lap, when Draco had suddenly asked, "Hey Pansy, d'you reckon Potter's gay?"

"No doubt about it," came the confident reply. "Why do you ask?"

"Just something I was thinking about. I mean, it wouldn't be surprising if he was. Such a fucking emotional sook. Crying all the time over his poor dead godfather." Draco answered his insults oh-so skilfully camouflaging his genuine interest in Harry's sexuality.

"Right as ever Draco," Pansy said, smiling. "He and Weasley probably do it every other day. Well I'm off to bed," she yawned, sitting up and kissing Draco on the cheek. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, goodnight."

Draco sighed. Now he didn't know what to believe. He knew perfectly well that Pansy was just bagging out the Boy-Who-Really-Should've-Died-By-Now, but he couldn't help wondering if they (Pansy and himself) were both right anyway.

The thought was rather bitter-sweet as Pansy's words came back to him. Yes, of course. It would be annoyingly logical for Potter to be shagging Weasley if they were both poofs. Naturally two idiot Gryffindors would be draw n to each other's outstanding bravery (_pfft_), and intelligence rivalled by none (_please, a naked mole rat has more intelligence in its big toe than the two of them put together_).

_Oh Christ Draco, get a grip_,he berated himself. _Stop hiding behind your stupid sarcasm all the damn time._

He ran his hands through his hair and over his face, agitated. _But it _would _make sense if they were secretly together_, thought Draco. _Or if not Weasley, surely another Gryffindor_.

Draco believed it totally without hope to wish that Harry Potter could ever fancy him. He'd never even go for a Slytherin, let alone the one Slytherin who takes every opportunity to prove he was better than him.

And with that encouraging thought, Draco went to bed, dreading the next morning: Double potions. First period. With Gryffindor.

_Great…_

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Harry was in a pleasant daze of fantasy when he was interrupted by a calm and insistent voice to his right.

"You know Harry, you really should keep your mind on your work," Hermione lightly reprimanded.

"Hm? Oh. Why's that?" came the drowsy reply.

"Because your sleeve's on fire." She said, pointing to the offending sleeve.

"What? Oh shit!" Harry swore as he frantically patted his robe, trying to put out the little fire. Hermione rolled her eyes and, pointing her wand at Harry's sleeve, muttered _Aquamenti_, and a small jet of water exterminated the flames.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks Hermione. You're a champion," he said, inspecting the damage done to his robe.

"You're quite welcome, and thank you. But really Harry, this is the third time this week you've done something dangerous in Potions. First you set Dean's seat on fire; then your caldron explodes, God only knows how you managed that; and now you go and set _yourself_ on fire! Honestly, I don't know _what's_ gotten into you lately-,"

Who_, you mean. And no one, except in the daydreams you keep interrupting._

"- and what's more, I don't think Professor Snape will -"

"Potter! Here. Now." _Speak of the devil…_

Harry sighed (one of weariness and impending doom rather than relief) and made his way to the front of the classroom, not missing the sympathetic looks and amused head-shaking from the right side of the room, and the sniggering and oh-so-smug looks from the left. And he couldn't help but notice the grim look on the face of a certain blonde Slytherin. He wasn't sitting back in his seat laughing with his girlfriend and cronies about how hopeless Pathetic Potter was. He looked like he was actually upset that Harry was in trouble again.

Harry's heart skipped a beat (again. Surely that's not healthy) as he made his way to his teacher. Did that mean- ?

"A little more haste, if you please, Potter," came the irritated voice of the potions master.

Harry belatedly realized that he had stopped in the middle of the classroom to stare at Malfoy. How embarrassing.

_Maybe no one noticed who I was looking at,_ he thought desperately.

But one person did. And in Draco's head was a party, for Harry Potter had looked at him with an expression of pure surprise and wonderment, rather than the usual scathing hatred he had become accustomed to over the years. _Probably wondering why I wasn't bagging him out to Crabbe and Goyle. Shit! What if someone else noticed?_

No one had.

The exchange was theirs and theirs alone.

Lost in their respective thoughts, Harry barely heard Snape telling him off for repeated negligence and stupidity; and Draco tuned out Pansy's various theories as to why Potter was so distracted that he was on fire without noticing.

As Harry walked back to his seat, he stared determinedly at the back wall. Draco stared determinedly straight into Harry's eyes, sending him a silent challenge. Harry chanced a glance in Malfoy's direction and was met with a deadly serious pair of steely grey-blue eyes.

Harry arched an eyebrow in question and he received a mischievous wink. Harry returned this with a startled look and got a small, sad smile and shake of the head all before he finally reached his seat.

Both boys returned to their potions, wondering what the fuck that was all about.

Unfortunately for Mr Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson wondered the same thing.

* * *

_Much Later That Evening.._

Wandering down the deserted halls in the direction of the boy's lavatory, Draco was expecting no company and was enjoying the fact that the universe was meeting his expectations for once. He needed some alone time. Some thinking time. Some time to try to process everything that had happened that evening.

Logically, he should have seen it coming. Well, some of it at least. Pansy wasn't completely stupid after all, and Draco had hardly done an excellent job of hiding his feelings for Potter from the public eye. But why couldn't Harry have noticed before Pansy? But then again, if Pansy _hadn't_ noticed first, then he wouldn't have found out that Harry had noticed.

In hindsight, it probably would've been a good idea to simply ignore Pansy's questions in the first place, rather than answer in obvious lies. And to not have suggested the Room of Requirement...

Ah well. Hindsight never helped anyone anyway.

* * *

_Earlier that day._

Potter was staring at him again. He could feel it.

Swivelling in his seat, he saw the accused hastily return to staring intently at a particularly interesting potato on his plate, before sneaking another look up a few seconds later to see if Draco had stopped looking.

He hadn't.

Harry quickly dipped his head back down as an embarrassed blush crept its way hot and uncomfortable up his neck to engulf his entire face.

Draco turned back to his food with a small smirk hovering on his lips. He could see it in his mind's eye: Harry would look up at him one more time (but only with his eyes this time. He had learned); find Malfoy no longer staring at him: visibly relax; maybe let out a sigh of relief; then immediately tense up again as he realises that Draco Malfoy had just caught Harry Potter checking him out.

Because Malfoy knew that that was what Potter had been doing. He wasn't an idiot, and he'd caught plenty of people doing it before.

Christ was he happy! But he decided that it would most definitely be best not to mention anything to Harry about it yet. For one, he didn't want to scare him off; and secondly, well, who wouldn't want to let Harry Potter sweat a little before relieving him of unnecessary tension?

- O -

_Jesus, I think he noticed._

No way.

_Don't be sarcastic._

Well, _obviously_ he noticed. He was looking at you wasn't he?

_Yeah, but that doesn't mean he picked up on the _reason_ I was looking at him._

He's not stupid you know.

_So?_

_So_, he probably did figure out why you were looking at him. He would've caught plenty of people checking him out over the years.

_-Sigh- I guess blushing wouldn't have helped the situation either._

Probably not.

_Shut up._

Hey, you said it, not me.

…_quiet you…_

Oh, nice comeback there.

Harry sat in a secluded corner of the Gryffindor common room, attempting to complete his extra Potions homework (_32 Reasons Why Setting Yourself on Fire is a Bad Idea_), and having the previous conversation with himself was Harry.

After his potions lesson first period and lunch not long after that, he had been talking to himself all day about many things (Draco, Ron, himself), all of which led back to the question of his sexuality.

Was he gay? Did it matter? Would he tell anyone?

Having spent the whole day thinking about it, he had decided to tell Ron and Hermione that he was indeed gay.

How did Harry come to this conclusion? I'm glad you asked. It was simple really: generally, one does not get ridiculously hot under the collar when one thinks about pounding one's enemy into the mattress in a session of steamy man-on-man sex when one is straight, does one?

He was hoping that Ron might overcome his natural narrow-mindedness just this once, but he also assured himself that this would take time, so he wasn't holding his breath.

What Harry hadn't yet decided on was whether or not to tell Ron the full extent of his feelings for him. Harry had contemplated telling him about both he and Draco, but had thought better of it. It's one thing to find out your best friend likes you. It's quite another to find out he also likes your mortal enemy.

Putting his quill and parchment back in his bag, Harry made his way up the stairs to his dorm.

"Bed already mate?" came Ron's voice over the racket of the over populated common room.

"Nah, just putting my stuff away. Back in a sec." Harry replied.

The roar of a million conversations faded slowly to a gentle babble as Harry closed in on his destination, giving him the silence he needed to make his decision: Now was the time.

His belongings chucked unceremoniously onto his bed, Harry sat down to talk to himself one last time before heading downstairs to his probable doom.

_You think I'm ready?_

As you'll ever be buddy.

_Alright. Let's do this thing._

Oh very Will Smith.

_Who?_

Never mind.

At the foot of the stairs, Harry could see Ron and Hermione chatting in their usual squashy armchairs in front of the fireplace. He stood where he was for a time, breathing deep and telling himself it would be alright.

He made his way calmly and casually toward his two best friends, readying himself for all the possibilities. _Heck, they might already know._

He sat down on the sturdy oak coffee table between them, a grim but determined look on his face.

"Guys? There's something I've been meaning to tell you…"

- O -

Eyes closed, panting and moaning, Draco was experiencing one of the best hand jobs in the universe. Smooth and almost painfully slow, the hand moved up and down, increasing and decreasing the pressure as it went, forcing Draco closer to the edge. He really enjoyed Pansy's handy work (pardon the pun) because he could close his eyes and lose himself to the sensation, imagining that it was someone else, eg a certain Gryffindor Seeker, and the thought made him positively overflow with happiness. Well, almost.

"Oh fuck…Jesus…fuckin' he - uh…" During these small moments of pleasure was the only time Draco really relinquished control and let someone dominate _him_ for a change. He just wished it didn't always have to be Pansy.

Faintly, as if from far away, Draco heard a strange sound. A sound that resembled that of a zipper being unzipped. In fact, it _was_ the sound of a zipper being unzipped. This made zero sense to Draco whatsoever. _His_ pants were already undone.

He felt Pansy kissing his neck, behind his ear, and gradually making her way down to the faint line of hair just below his navel. Before she did what Draco knew she was going to, she leaned over him and whispered in his ear, "I'm ready."

He didn't understand. She'd done this plenty of times before, so why would she tell him she was ready this time?

He simply nodded as a sign that he'd heard her, and replied huskily, "Ok, if you want."

Pansy smiled and kissed him full on the mouth.

Something didn't quite feel right to Draco. There was something going on here that he didn't understand. He hated not understanding.

A warm, moist pressure suddenly enveloped his most vital organ and he heard a gasp from above him.

_That is definitely not her mouth…_

And finally Draco understood: Pansy was ready to take the next step with him - a step he did not want to take - and he'd just let her do it.

_Oh fuck._

It was difficult to concentrate on how to rectify the situation with Pansy on top of him having the time of her life, moving up and down, causing Draco to pant and moan even more.

"Oh God…uh…Pansy…"

"Yes, Draco!"

"No, Pansy you don't – uh – nderstand…"

Pant pant "What?"

"You need to get off me." pant "Right now."

Pansy looked like someone had just dropped a piano on her head. "What? Why? But you didn't even -"

"Pansy! Get off, now!"

"Ok ok, sorry. Was I that bad?" She said it sarcastically, but Draco saw through her. She thought she'd done something wrong.

_Poor girl._

She hadn't. Not really. Unless you classify semi-raping your boyfriend as 'wrong'.

Catching his breath and zipping up his trousers, Draco sat up to look at his girlfriend. She slipped her shirt back on and was adjusting her own pant wear as pearly tears threatened to spill from the corners of her clear blue eyes.

With his most caring demeanour, Draco said softly, "Pansy, look -"

"It's Potter, isn't it?" she cut him off, mid care.

It was Draco's turn to be gob smacked, piano-style. "What do you mean '_it's Potter'_? What the fuck does he have anything to do with this?"

"Oh don't even try to bullshit me! He has everything to do with this and you know it!" said Pansy, her voice getting progressively louder as she stabbed him in the chest with an accusatory finger.

"What's that supposed to mean?" _Fuck, I thought no one noticed._

"Jesus, Draco!" she flung her arms up in the air and stormed off the bed. "Do you think I'm an idiot??"

"Well, no, but -"

"I saw you two today! Potter couldn't keep his fucking eyes off you, and you were too fucking busy lapping it up to listen to a fucking thing I had to say all fucking day! Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't pick up on the fact that almost every time my hand goes around your cock you moan _Harry _under your breath?"

Draco was appalled at himself. "Jesus Pansy, I'm -"

"You're what? You're_ sorry_? Well _sorry_ just won't cut it Draco! Now I need _you _to get the fuck out, right now," she raged, pointing to the door.

"But this is my room!" he said with indignation.

"I DON'T CARE WHOSE ROOM IT IS, JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!!" Pansy was furious (who could blame her?) and Draco could see the situation getting way out of hand (bit of a pun there) real quick, so he did just about the most intelligent thing he'd done all day:

"Ok, I'm gone," he said, and got the fuck out.

Just before the door closed, he heard Pansy begin to cry.

_God damn it..._

This was the single _worst_ day of his entire life.

- O -

_Well, that went predictably bad_, thought Harry as he made his way quietly and invisibly out of the common room to aimlessly roam the halls. Both of his friends had reacted almost exactly the way he'd pictured: Hermione was supportive and all 'It doesn't matter what team you swing for coz we'll still be on yours', and 'It's your life and I respect your choices'.

Ron, on the other hand, was furious, but not exactly at Harry. He had seemed to take Harry's homo-ness extremely personally, even going so far as to blame himself for this devastating travesty: 'I knew I shouldn't have slept half naked all the time!' and 'Don't worry Harry, no one blames you for this', he had said while placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

Harry was deeply offended by this last remark (and rightly so), replying with all manner of obscenities, raised voices, and a healthy combination of the two.

In hindsight, the yelling and swearing was probably not the best idea. Never mind._ I'll calm down and then I'll go back and apologise for yelling, and me and Ron can have a nice civilised conversation about this tomorrow._

_Shit…tomorrow…Potions after lunch. Christ, now that Ron and Hermione know, they'll probably stare at him too. Maybe he won't not-_

Harry was cut off by a sudden forceful, painful entity colliding with his forehead. He had stopped walking and was leaning against the wall in a corridor, when he was unexpectedly head-butted by none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Christ almighty! What'd you do that for?" Harry exclaimed, bringing both hands to his forehead in an effort to dull the pain.

Draco looked at the apparently offended wall. Confusion clouded his handsome face (and we all know how much he hates it when that happens), until he thought he might recognise that voice:

"Potter?" he asked, unsure of himself.

"Yeah, who'd you think it was?" came Harry's disembodied voice in front of him.

"Why the fuck are you invisible?"

"Invisibility cloak, _obviously,_" replied Harry, pulling the cloak off as he said this.

It was then that the two realised just how close they were to each other: Harry was still leaning against the wall, and Draco had one fist on either side of Harry, above his shoulders, where he had previously punched the wall in frustration (the punches had arrived simultaneously with the head-butting. Harry was simply in too much shock and pain to notice).

"Ok. Invisibility cloak. Right," said Draco, letting it sink in. "And what exactly is a good little Gryffindor doing roaming the halls after bed time?" he continued, composing himself and sneering.

"The same thing _you're_ doing still being this close to my face," Harry replied calmly. "Taking a risk."

Knowing exactly what he meant by that (well, pretty much), Draco retorted, "And what risk am I running being close to your face, Potter, apart from coming down with a terrible case of _moronicus Gryffindoria_?"

Keeping his cool and not quite knowing where his bravado and forwardness had come from, "I thought perhaps coming down with a more satisfying case of _admittingus thine attractionus to a mannus _might be more likely." Harry said with a knowing smile, bringing his face closer to the other boy's. "But you never know."

Leaning in and closing the gap even further, Draco hissed, "I have no idea what you're talking about Potter."

"Ah but there's a not-so-little something that tells me otherwise."

"Oh?" asked Draco. "And what might that be?"

A devilish grin broke over Harry's lips. "Glad you asked." And without any ado whatsoever, Harry unceremoniously groped the front of Draco's trousers, which, until now, he hadn't noticed was remarkably swollen.

A sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan escaped his lips, and he involuntarily rocked his hips gently forward, pushing himself toward Harry. Taking this as a sign of assent, Harry slowly massaged the manly package in his grasp, and closed the gap between them completely by bringing his lips to Draco's neck, thrilled when the blonde hottie moaned even deeper at his touch. After a few minutes of this, Harry could see that it was very likely that a more private setting may soon be required.

Ceasing all motion and gently pushing Draco back with a hand on his chest, he said, "If you see this going the way I see it going then I think we need to move to a more secluded place, unless you want to get caught making out by Filch or Snape or someone."

Panting slightly, Draco smirked, "So _now_ the brave Gryffindor is afraid to be caught after beddy-byes."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm still fairly in the closet here, so I wouldn't want the whole school finding out through Snape." Harry said evenly. "What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"The being in the closet bit."

"Potter, I am so far in the closet, I'm in fucking Narnia," Draco smiled.

"Good to see we're on the same page here," Harry smiled back.

They stood there a moment, taking each other in as they racked their brains for a place to go where they wouldn't be interrupted (these thoughts occasionally being pushed aside to make way for thoughts of what they might get up to once _in_ said privacy).

After a time:

"Room of Requirement?" suggested Draco.

"Perfect."

They walked off in the direction of the magical room, both purposefully not rushing so as not to let on just how eager they both were to get there. The silence they walked in was not exactly comfortable, but nor was it awkward. It was as though both boys had a million things to say to each other, but neither knew exactly where to start.

It was Harry who spoke first.

"I didn't know you liked Muggle books."

"I didn't know you liked gorgeous men, but then, I didn't really know I did either."

Harry blushed. "That makes two of us then."

"Weasel and Bookworm know?"

Choosing to ignore the blatant insult: "Yeah. Told 'em about half an hour ago….Probably a stupid question, but does your girlfriend know?"

"Probably not my girlfirend for much longer, and I didn't tell her, but she pretty much just figured it out on her own," came the resigned response.

"Oh…" He didn't quite know what to say. "How? I mean…did she…I dunno…catch you? You know, with a guy?" he asked tentatively.

"Not exactly, no." A sad sort of smile crept over his handsome face.

Silence settled for a few seconds and Harry wondered if he might've accidentally stumbled upon something too private.

"So are you going to ask me what happened or what?" demanded Draco.

Startled, Harry said, "Oh, um…so how did she find out?"

"Well," started the blonde, "She noticed me looking at someone I shouldn't have been looking at today," (significant glance at Mr Potter here) "and on occasion I've accidentally said the wrong name when she makes me…ah, you know…when I come; and well… she's not an idiot... So we had a fight, and she chucked me – I mean, and _I left_, and I've been walking the shadowy halls of this fine institution for about an hour since."

"Oh. I see." Assuming he had interpreted that spiel correctly, Harry was a happy young man indeed. _Go Harry, Go Harry..._

They continued walking in relative silence and all too suddenly, they reached the corridor concealing the Room of Requirement. Both taking a deep breath - and both laughing nervously when they heard the other do so - they continued down the corridor until they came to the section of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy.

After standing for a moment watching Harry kicking at the floor, Draco sighed resignedly and, beginning to walk back and forth in front of the wall, said, "I'll do it then shall I?"

Walking past the section of wall three times and repeating in his head _I need somewhere for me and Harry to be alone to do, well, whatever it is we want to do, without being interrupted…please… _and as he and Harry stood expectantly before the wall, sure enough, a great elaborate door materialised in front of them.

Draco opened it, stood aside and bowed:

"Ladies first…"

* * *

Author note: Well, there you go and I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to my darling Olivia for the Narnia line ;. Please let me know if there are any spelling mistakes or anything in there, or if there's anything that doesn't make sense.

Review if you please :) I'll reply!!

Much love!!


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